It’s late. Mum sits on the bed waiting for me to help her get undressed and into her nightie. I resist, hoping that she’ll still somehow manage to do it herself.
I lay out her nightie for her to put on. I’m feeling much more patient tonight because if I don’t help her she’ll fall sleep in her clothes.
I unzip her jumper, unbutton her shirt, and slip the nightie over her head. I direct her to take off her black pants which is a hard task for her, but she manages. Then I remind her to do shoo shoo (pishy) and put on a clean nappy.
I leave the room and return 10 minutes later; she’s still on the toilet.
I pace myself - when I’m about to burst I need to leave the room for a minute or two, and then check in again. Mum’s in bed but she didn’t manage to put the fresh nappy on. Never mind.
I tuck her in - she loves this feeling. I ask her if she’s warm. She grabs my hand and whispers, As long as you hold me everything’s ok.